


Naughty

by Anonymous



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Casual Sex, Dirty Talk, F/M, Humiliation, Masturbation, Voyeurism, Webcam/Video Chat Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-09
Updated: 2018-01-09
Packaged: 2019-03-02 14:12:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13319832
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: "Hey, Gabe," she says, and Sombra's never been shy, but there's a peculiar heat racing across her skin that isn't entirely to do with the alcohol. She's excited by her own daring, by the idea of Reaper watching her decide just how far she'll take this in real time.





	Naughty

There's a single camera in her room hidden amongst the vast array of monitors and computer parts. Sombra doesn't use it often - for blackmail, usually - but tonight feels right in a way she can't consciously explain.

She's in the mood for some mischief. Enough to have had a few drinks, but still not enough to chance bringing a stranger back here... and that leaves Sombra looking at the secret little camera, her fingers absentmindedly rubbing along the metal implanted in her skull, a thought like trouble brewing beneath her skin.

She really shouldn't be left to her own devices like this.

See, it's too simple to shed her jacket, carelessly tossing it towards the floor by the foot of the bed. It's even easier to interface with her computers - the camera - and send the live stream to a feed that only a few people know can play behind the Reaper's mask.

"Hey, Gabe," she says, and Sombra's never been shy, but there's a peculiar heat racing across her skin that isn't entirely to do with the alcohol. She's excited by her own daring, by the idea of Reaper watching her decide just how far she'll take this in real time.

Her phone buzzes almost instantly. _What are you doing?_

Then, _I'm in a meeting_. Even better.

Sombra sits down on the bed, leans back, and spreads her thighs as she runs her fingers up them. She winks at the camera when she pushes her skirt up and out of the way. Still mostly clothed, but if Reaper can't figure out where this is going, he's a lot dumber than Sombra thought.

"I thought we could have a bit of fun," she tells him. Her own feed, glistening from the corners of Sombra's vision, shows her that Reaper hasn't disconnected yet.

_Get on with it_.

"Really?" Sombra says aloud before she can stop herself. But if he's going to play along... "What do you want, Gabe?" she asks him slyly, trying to take back control of the situation.

_Show me what you thought was worth interrupting me for_.

She can practically hear his reproach, but Reaper still hasn't closed the line. "Impatient," Sombra teases, a not-insignificant quiver lingering in the pit of her stomach from being told off. Surely that shouldn't get her going nearly as hard as it does. "I was going to take this slow," she says, slipping off her shirt, "get you all worked up..."

Sombra doesn't know why she's even sharing this part of the fantasy with him, but she can't seem to help herself. Her hands linger on her body with every piece of fabric she frees herself of, caressing her already heated skin. "I couldn't decide if I wanted you to beg me for it or just come here and finish the job."

She's stripped down to almost nothing almost before she knows it, caught up in her own fantasies and the feeling of her own hands grasping the soft flesh where she's most sensitive. "Fuck me senseless. Take me over your knee and tell me -" Sombra's not in the habit of being ashamed of what she wants, but she is, a little, of being this transparent.

She's a little into it too.

A lot into it. Sombra rubs herself through the thin strip of fabric hiding her pussy from view. The little thong is already riding up to bare her labia, soaking wet - she knows the kind of sight she must make, and the knowledge that Reaper is watching only adds fuel to the fire.

_You talk too much_.

"Tell me," Sombra repeats, only to be contrary at this point, cheeks flushed and voice little more than a whisper, "how much I get on your nerves. That you're going to give me exactly what's coming to me."

_You're incorrigible_.

"Aww, Gabe," she whines, breathless, smearing her fluid all over her tits just to savor how they're aching, "don't pretend you don't like it."

She glances towards the phone screen, but this time it doesn't light up. Doesn't matter; he's trying to fuck with her head, or else someone's realized he's not paying them any attention.

"Or do." Because the idea of embarrassing herself like this if Reaper has nothing but distain for the spectacle shouldn't be so appealing, but the thought makes Sombra's cunt clench up deliciously tight. She'd had a reputation once - one that had nothing to do with her technological prowess.

Reaper probably knows.

Sombra meant to draw this out. She'd wanted _him_ desperate, maybe enough to let something slip, and yet here she is, completely incapable of keeping her hands off herself for even a moment. She rubs her clit in small, rough circles without moving her thong out of the way.

_Is that what you want?_

"Anything," she moans, spreading her legs further, lying back against the bed until it makes her dizzy between the alcohol and the blood rushing to her cunt. "Gabe-"

She has to twist her head to make out the phone screen - could probably set up some program to read it for her next time, and there's an idea...

_Don't say that._

Sombra laughs. Of all the ridiculous - "Not trying to confess my _feelings_ , Gabe," - poor choice of words, but she can't even bring herself to worry about it now, bites her lip a second to regroup and - "I just want to fuck you. Get naughty." Her hips buck up into her touch past all semblance of control and Sombra can't help spilling some of the lurid fantasies she's entertained, "ride your fucking thighs until I cum all over them, take your cock so hard I can't walk for a week."

She wonders if Reaper's hard in his meeting, watching, listening - if he can even get hard, for as much as he's fucked up - if he's sweltering in his huge leather coat. Sombra doesn't ask. She doesn't want to ruin the fantasy she's built up in her head.

Her phone buzzes again and Sombra cranes her neck to read the too small print. She's so close, thighs twitching and her orgasm building somewhere near the restless clench of her abdomen. Couldn't stop now if she wanted to.

_Come, Sombra_.


End file.
